


Galahad, Galahad, Galahad

by inusagi



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Blood, Drug Use, M/M, teen!Eggsy, urban legend au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:06:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5998111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inusagi/pseuds/inusagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friend of a friend of a friend's cousin told them a story about a demon in a well-tailored suit who would slit your throat if you were stupid enough to say his name three times into a mirror. </p><p>So <em>of course</em> a group of London teenagers got high and did just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Galahad, Galahad, Galahad

**Author's Note:**

> Special shout out to [SilusL](http://silusl.tumblr.com/) for listening to me bitch.

"Fuck _right off_."

Alfie took a long drag of the joint in his hand and, coughing, passed it to his girlfriend, Millie . "Don't be such a fuckin' girl, Eggsy."

The boy grimaced at the jeering laughter around the room and propped himself up on his elbows where he laid on the rough carpeted floor. He was loose-limbed and relaxed from the smoke being passed around, but the taunting was really starting to harsh his mellow.

" _You_ don't seem too keen to do it, bruv."

Alfie—who was Jamal's older brother, was a cooler bloke with cooler friends and a part-time gig at Tesco's that meant he could afford a higher quality of weed than Eggsy could get ahold of on his own—waved two fingers in Eggsy's general direction. "Don't have to, do I? I ain't the one who got dared."

"Ah, let him alone," Alfie's best mate, Trevor, chimed in. Trevor was a dim bloke, with eyes that were slightly different sizes and permanently glued to Millie's tits. "An' Monday, we can tell Tamsin Jones what a fuckin' chicken widdle Weggsy is.”

Eggsy tried not to rise to the bait, he really did, but once the chicken noises started— _bawk bawk bawk—_ he knew it was a lost cause. It’d be better, he reckoned, if he got it out of the way before they could _completely_ ruin the pleasant buzz thrumming through his system.

He got to his feet, which felt oddly like they were filled with sand, and with a final “This is so fucking stupid,” he made his way to the loo. He faced the toothpaste-speckled mirror and opened his mouth. “Gal—“

“Oi,” someone shouted. “Close the door! Nobody wants to _watch_ the bogeyman kill your scrawny arse.”

Comforting.

After he closed the door, Eggsy waited a moment—if he just did it and left quickly, they’d accuse him of not doing it all—and looked at his reflection. Everything was delightfully blurry around the edges—the only way he could look himself in the eye, really, without feeling like a massive disappointment to one and all—and he couldn’t help but stare for a bit before he realized that more time had passed than he’d intended.

He took a deep breath, uncaring and unbelieving, and said “Galahad. Galahad. Galahad.”

And of course, because it was just a stupid story and an even more stupid dare, nothing happened.

Eggsy left the room to rejoin the party—and hopefully smoke a bit more.

He didn’t notice, before he shut the door behind him, that the reflection in the mirror wasn’t his.

 

☂Ⓚ☂

“Listen, all I’m saying is it’s a demon, innit?” Millie said, batting away Alfie’s wandering hands with a soapy flannel. “Or a ghost or summat. Maybe it was busy. Maybe it’s gonna come and, like, kill us while we sleep.”

He wrapped his arms around her, grinding his prick against her bum. “Don’t be daft. Unwin probably didn’t even say it and you know as well as I do that Siobhan is full of shit on her best days. She probably made the whole thing up.”

Millie didn’t push him away, which Alfie took as an encouraging sign. “’Sides, maybe this mirror bloke would enjoy the show.”

She slapped him on the chest with an indignant shriek. “Out, you! I need to wash my hair!”

Laughing, Alfie stepped out of the tub, and towelled off. His laugher turned into the affected _mwahahaha_ of a cartoon villain. He flickered the lights.

“Stop it, you twat!”

“Galahad.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ _dare.”_ Her voice had taken up a shrill tone that reminded her of her mother, but she didn’t care. Siobhan’s story frightened her, and it wasn’t okay for Alfie to be a prick about it.

“Galahad.”

“I fuckin’ mean it. I’ll break up with you! I’ll tell everyone about that one thing you do with your—“

“Galahad! Don’t be a bitch, Millie. You promised you wasn’t gonna say nothin’ about that.”

Alfie flipped the lights on and, despite the fearfully erratic cadence of her heartbeat, she went back to rinsing the soap from her hair. There was a sound like gargling mouthwash and a loud thump, which Millie resolutely ignored. She refused to take part in any more of Alfie’s attempts to scare her.

That bastard. They’d be having words. Words and _no bloody shagging._

She was still fuming when she switched the water off, and even more so when, stepping out, she slipped on the wet floor. Millie’s head bounced against the porcelain tub, disorienting her for a moment with a flash of pain.

She brought her shower-wrinkled fingers to the back of her head, and pulled bloodied ones away. Except...

Except the blood was _everywhere_ —Far, far too much of it to be from her bonk on the head. It covered her skin like a macabre, viscous lotion and lay in a puddle on the linoleum floor. She searched frantically, vision blurred with pain and fear, for the source of the blood—first checking herself for another injury, then elsewhere on the floor—before she saw it.

A scream welled up in her chest, but her throat closed up before a sound could escape. It was better than Alfie’s throat, though, because Alfie’s throat was _gone_. Just...fucking gone.

It looked like he’d been through an abattoir, his neck cleaved as if the only thought had been to drain him dry. His handsome face, paler than she’d ever seen it, was frozen in an expression of glassy-eyed surprise.

She pushed herself away from Alfie in revulsion, and into an unexpected pair of long legs.

Millie looked up from the blood-splattered trousers, to the crisp black waistcoat and tie, and into the face of her very nightmares.

Galahad—for that was surely who he was—would be handsome if not for the cold, humourless smile and the all-black eyes that Millie couldn’t seem tear her gaze away from, even as he spoke the last words she would ever hear.

“You were right to be afraid, my dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://statcounter.com/shopify/)  
> 
> 
> Thank you for reading


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